The One With The Fame Ridden Squirrel
by MihoAnsatsu
Summary: It's all about Nutty (my oc, based on the one in Hawk's bio) as he and Ronald wait for Gerald to return to the zoo.


"Nothing puts me to shame, when I'm a household name, the Uppers can kiss my tail, because they just freakin' _fail_!"

Nutty had never truly understood what "it" exactly was or how one went about perfecting "it", but he was convinced it was something he had; though according to the other Jungo, the many raves and songs they'd endured had convinced them "it" couldn't possibly be modesty or humility. And despite whether singing had anything to do with "it", it was soon clear that a certain tortoise was not the biggest fan of his improvised vocals.

"As _lovely_ as your singing is, I'd appreciate it if you stopped," Ronald said, raising an eyebrow. "Can't really concentrate when you're screaming at the top of your lungs."

"What else am I supposed to do when our leader's stopped me from going outside because he's a stupid, jealous twat?"

"No, Ongh said you're not allowed outside of the zoo for the time being just in case _Hawk's_ prowling."

Noticing the somewhat hurt, puppy-eyed look the squirrel was shooting him, Ronald couldn't help sighing in slight irritation.

"Don't give me that look Nutty, you _know_ why that's the case. Because of the whole pre-meteorite charade and the advertising and the peanuts. Do I really need to go any further?"

"Oh Ronald, baby," the squirrel muttered, shaking his head at the tortoise. "What was I supposed to do to stop them, huh? Scurry into Mr Zlatar's trousers and..."

He trailed off, feeling his face drop as he suddenly shuddered in disgust; ever since the meteorite's impact, Nutty had developed a sense of how his thoughts sounded and how they affected him, just like the other Jungo members. And somewhat unsavoury thoughts were never welcome, though he was soon distracted by the paper in the tortoise's hands.

"Anything about _me_ in there?"

"I doubt the Science Chronicle would have anything to say about _you_," Ronald replied, chuckling when he noticed the hopeful expression on the squirrel's face. "They do constantly keep data and the latest on the whole meteorite case though."

"That happened at least three years ago!"

"Yes, but there are still so many unanswered questions, but there are some theories they have managed to disprove."

"Like the existence of God?"

He'd meant it as a serious question, yet the two creatures were unable to keep themselves from laughing heartily just moments after asking. Despite his clean habits and generally tolerant attitude to all races and species (not once had he turned to slander or racism during a diva moment), Nutty was actually quite the atheist and didn't believed that good values were thanks to God; it was really one of the only things in common he had with Ronald.

However, any further chances of God-mocking were cut short when a familiar face made himself known.

"Hi guys! I'm back from cookery class!"

Despite having only established himself as one who cooked for just a few months, the Clint City education services had asked Gerald if he was willing to teach a few adult classes. And when news spread that a _pig_ was teaching people how to cook, it came as no surprise that spaces had been filled _very_ quickly (much to the annoyance of the Uppers' Maurice, who believed filthy beasts deserved no encouragement).

"Oh, hello Gerald," Ronald said, giving him a single nod. "How was your time with the humans? How did they do with their cooking?"

"A _lot_ better than their last lesson, that's for sure. And you'll never believe who's signed up as a latecomer. Only..."

Noticing the squirrel staring at him in an expectant manner, the pig couldn't help trailing off and responding with a somewhat nervous glance.

"What?"

"Did you put a good word in about me regarding Clint City Kitchen?"

"No, because you can't be _trusted_," Gerald scoffed, darting him a rather irritated look. "Remember what happened last time? You put bacon in the casserole and didn't tell me!"

"You _liked_ it though, didn't you?"

"That's true," the pig said, sounding and looking rather embarrassed, yet suddenly shaking his head in annoyance. "But it's the _principle_, Nutty! I'm not..."

"A buta?"

"That's it! I'm not one of those!"

"Actually, you are," Ronald suddenly said, lifting his gaze up from his paper. "If I'm correct, it's the Japanese word for pig."

"And now that's out of the way, can I at least help you with some cooking?"

Glancing quickly left and right before averting his gaze to the ground for a good while, it was obvious the pig had reservations over such a casual request; only to then slowly gage eye contact with Nutty, with a somewhat cautious smile on his face.

"Go on. But I swear, if you try anything with the bacon _this_ time, I'll make sure you never find work in this city again!"

Despite being doubtful that the likes of Gerald had _that_ much power, Nutty couldn't help but hold the pig to his word; giving a single, shaken nod and a somewhat cautious "ok", he relaxed just a little when his fellow Jungo donned his usual grin and handed him the spatula straight away.

"Wait, are you not going to put on your fabulous chef clothes? Or at least that cute little apron?"

"Can't be bothered," was the simple reply. "Cooking's all on impulse and I'm itching to make something right now!"


End file.
